


Wolf Widow

by redcandle17



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Widowed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-18
Updated: 2010-02-18
Packaged: 2017-10-07 09:00:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redcandle17/pseuds/redcandle17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Catelyn copes with her husband's death during the Greyjoy Rebellion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wolf Widow

She was in childbed when the raven came. They did not tell her the ill news at first. Catelyn could sense their grief, though, and she feared something was wrong with the babe. "Tell me," she commanded, but they would not heed her. It was only when the birth was over and they had laid her new daughter in her arms that Maester Luwin told her of the raven from the Iron Isles.

"Lord Eddard is dead, my lady. He fell during the taking of Pyke. The king sends you his condolences."

She had known this moment might come when she watched Ned ride off to war. Yet being prepared did not lessen the blow. _Has it only been five years since he returned from that other war?_

"Bring me the letter."

The babe was asleep when Maester Luwin returned. Catelyn watched her for a long moment before unfolding the letter. It was brief, but written in Robert's own hand. Her lord husband had fought bravely and died a good death, the king assured her. _Only a man would think to write such a thing._ He swore his faithful friendship and promised that she would have whatever she asked. But no king had the power to give her what she wanted. _He cannot give me back my husband or my children their father._ Catelyn crumpled the letter and threw it to the floor.

Old Nan brought the children to her. Robb and little Sansa huddled beside the bed while Ned's bastard Jon Snow hung back. Catelyn let them examine their new sister but the excitement that had filled them during her pregnancy was gone. They could feel the tension in the castle and it frightened them. She tried to remember the words her father had used to tell her of her mother's death, but it had been so long ago.

"The gods have called your father to them, my little ones. He loves us very much but he will not be coming home." They did not understand. She spoke more plainly. "Your father is dead."

"Dead?" Sansa asked. She was only two.

Robb answered her before Catelyn could. "Like Fat Jeyne." The cook's helper had died of fever not a moon past. He began to cry and, more likely influenced by seeing her big brother cry than understanding what death meant, Sansa cried too.

Catelyn lifted her children onto the bed and held them, murmuring meaningless words of comfort. Jon Snow was crying too. _Perhaps just this once..._ But he fled before she could do anything. Old Nan shuffled after him. _It is just as well._

More ravens came with more letters in the days that followed. Stark bannermen wrote to offer their condolences to their lord's widow. Southron lords who had fought beside Ned also wrote to her. The most welcome letter was from Riverrun. Her father was coming to console her. Joy filled her as she read his letter and then it faded. Her children needed their father too. Sansa was young enough that she would soon forget him. And the babe, Arya, would never know him.

Catelyn had never warmed to Winterfell's godswood. The old gods dwelled within it and she would always be a stranger to them. It had been Ned's favorite place, though, and lately she found herself taking long walks there. She meandered through the huge, ancient trees and always ended at the pool where Ned used to clean his sword after killing a man. Sometimes he had preferred this place to her company and that had hurt. It was a strange thing, to be jealous of trees.

She studied the solemn face carved into the weirwood heart tree. _You knew him better than I did._ She had tried to know and to love the man she had married, but she suspected she had only succeeded at one of the two. That first year apart had cast a long shadow over the five years that followed it. It was the year Ned would not talk about. He had talked about everything else but he would not speak about the woman with whom he had fathered Jon Snow or about the war and his sister Lyanna's death.

"Help! Help!"

Catelyn started. Then giggles broke through the shrieks and she relaxed. Sansa ran into the clearing as fast as her little legs could carry her, hotly pursued by Robb and Jon Snow. Catelyn remembered a time when she had played the same game with her sister and brother in Riverrun's cheerier godswood. The children seemed oblivious to the gloom of this godswood. _This is their place, as it was their father's. A Stark place._

"Slow down for an old woman," Old Nan called, finally catching up to the children. "Pardon, my lady," she said when she saw Catelyn. "Are you wanting to be alone? I'll herd them elsewhere."

"Leave them." Old Nan was a very old woman and she couldn't keep up with the children, but none of the young nurses could take her place in their hearts. She was more family than servant. _It's not another servant they need._ Sansa and Arya would need guidance on being proper ladies too. Catelyn would have to write to the Great Sept in King's Landing and ask them to send a septa.

She felt alone in a way she hadn't even as a young bride arriving at Winterfell. For a moment she considered going south and spending time in the riverlands, maybe even visiting King's Landing. Her sister Lysa lived at court with her husband and King Robert would surely welcome Ned's widow and children. But she knew enough of politics to know that it would be a mistake to leave the North now. This was her son's domain and she needed to secure it until he was old enough to rule himself.

Her father's visit lifted her spirits. She was in her bower studying the accounts book when a serving boy interrupted to tell her they'd spotted Tully banners. Catelyn immediately went to make sure the children were presentable. Lord Hoster hadn't seen Robb since he was a babe and he'd never met Sansa and Arya.

"Cat!" Her father pulled her into a bear hug and spun her the way he used to when she was a little girl.

"I'm so glad you came," she whispered. Part of her still believed that everything would be all right once Father was home.

"Of course. Cat, I'm so sorry. First Brandon and now..." He shook his head, where hair once as auburn as her own was fading to white. "You deserve better than the gods have dealt you."

"The gods have their reasons," she said, though sometimes it took all her faith not to doubt those reasons. Robb had turned shy and she took him by the hand to present to his grandfather. "You remember Robb."

"No, that can't be. My grandson is just a babe. This is a man grown!"

Robb puffed up at that and his shyness disappeared. Sansa was eager to be introduced too. She attempted to curtsy and fell over. She got to her feet before anyone could help her and tried again. Lord Hoster laughed and picked her up. "She looks just like you did at her age," he told Catelyn. "A true beauty."

Catelyn took Arya from a nursemaid. "And this is Arya."

Lord Hoster stroked the babe's head. "Another beauty."

Catelyn would have liked to have her father to herself, but it would seem ill not to feast the Lord of Riverrun in Winterfell's hall. It was a subdued feast, as they were in mourning, but the hall was more alive than it had been in a long time. The absence of Winterfell's men was less apparent with her father's guards seated in their place.

"Your sister wrote to you?"

"Lord Jon did. Lysa has her own misfortune to mourn. She has lost another babe."

Lord Hoster abruptly changed the subject. "Men do not like to be ruled by a woman. Some of your bannermen may test Winterfell's power," he warned her.

"I have thought of that," Catelyn replied. "Ser Rodrik and I have readied plans in the event of a rebellion."

"Riverrun's forces will come if you have need of them."

It was no less than she expected but still reassuring. She felt guilty at being almost happy when Ned was dead. It had been a long time since she'd last seen her father, though, and there would be misery enough when he left.

Ned's bones came home in a box draped with a grey and white direwolf banner, accompanied by the men he'd led to war. It should have stormed that day, but instead the sun shone brightly. It was the first day of summer.

"Father's in there," Robb whispered to Sansa. It made her want to look inside, though thankfully she was too small to reach it.

"Take them to the nursery," Catelyn told Old Nan sharply. _They are too young to grieve properly,_ she reminded herself.

Jory Cassel, the highest ranking of Winterfell's men who had survived, presented her with the Valyrian steel greatsword Ice. One day Robb would wield it, as Stark lords had done for hundreds of years. But for now it would lie beside Ned's remains in the great hall while the castlefolk paid their respects.

The stonemason had already begun his work, carving a likeness of Ned to stand in the crypt. She would rest by his side eventually. There would be no statue of her; that was a honor reserved only for lords. Ned had defied tradition by raising statues of Brandon and Lyanna, though. _Would he have honored me the same way, if I had died before him?_ It was a morbid thought and pointless.

A hunt in the wolfswood was just the thing to distract her from such thoughts. Her father was not overly fond of hunting but he loved riding and exploring new places and Catelyn found herself pointing out things she hadn't realized she'd known.

It was over too soon. Lord Hoster could not be away from his lands for too long. He had to leave after just a fortnight. "Edmure can be rash," he said. "He has much to learn still. If some problem should arise while I am gone, I'm not sure he would chose the wisest solution."

"He is young," she replied, ever the dutiful older sister defending her little brother. "But go and take my love with you."

"The Seven keep you, Cat." Her father embraced her one last time before mounting his horse. "I'll send Edmure to visit."

"I'll look forward to it."

It was not long after that the lords of the North descended on Winterfell, ostensibly to swear fealty to Robb. In truth they came seeking her hand. They were all eager to become stepfather to Robb and rule as lord protector. _Vultures_, Catelyn thought, and treated them to cold courtesy. It did not deter them. They showered her with flattery and gifts and their singers sang of a widow's lonely bed.

Greatjon Umber, a giant of a man, was the boldest. He seized Catelyn and kissed her. She struggled to free her arm and slapped him as hard as she could. "You're a fiery one," he laughed, but he released her.

Roose Bolton made his proposal plainly, with no attempt at flirtation. "Lord Robb is very young and there are those who may resist being ruled by a small boy. I would defend him and govern until he is of age."

_Never_. Catelyn would do anything to protect her children but she was well aware that an ambitious stepfather brought his own danger. Bolton's pale eyes unnerved her, as did his apparent lack of emotion. "Forgive my bluntness, my lord, but I do not intend to remarry."

"You're a young woman, Lady Catelyn!" Lord Manderly protested when she told him the same thing.

"It has not even been half a year since my husband's death," she replied coldly. "I have no thought to spare for other men."

Rebuked, he tried another track. "Then I would be honored to take Lord Robb as my ward."

Robb would need the guidance of men when he was older and there were things he could not learn from a mother. But Catelyn would prefer to send him to squire for her father, or perhaps Jon Arryn, who had been Ned's foster father. "I have recently lost my husband; do not ask me to part with my son so soon. However I would be grateful if you took my husband's natural son Jon Snow as your ward."

"Of course. I am happy to serve you, my lady." He waggled his eyebrows, turning the courtly statement into innuendo. Catelyn almost smiled. If she had been looking to remarry, he would be among her last choices. He was the fattest man she had ever seen. He was also the wealthiest lord in the North, and good-natured. _Jon Snow will have a good life with him_, she told herself. But not yet. It would grieve Robb to part with his bastard half brother and she would spare her son that loss for a while longer.

Eventually her suitors accepted that she would not relent and departed and life at Winterfell returned to normal. Children played and dogs barked; stableboys tended horses and guardsmen trained in the yard. Everyone did what they were supposed to do and the castle rang with talk and laughter. But for the absence of a few men, it was as if the war had never happened. And yet the absence of one man made all the difference to Catelyn.

It was worst when she was alone at night. Every night it hit her anew that Ned would not be coming to her bed, not that night, not ever. He would never hold her again, never kiss her, never talk with her. Tears that she had not shed before came those nights. But then Arya would cry for an entirely different reason and Catelyn would rise to nurse her. Ned was gone but he had not left her alone.


End file.
